


I'm on Fire

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kinda, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Top Richie Tozier, Voyeurism, sexy bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Don’t think you being sweet is going to distract me from thisdisaster,” Eddie waves the brightly-colored folder behind Richie’s back. “I have to use this for work. You’re lucky I have an empty spare.”“I’m not doing anything,” Richie says, crowding Eddie up against his desk.“But if Iwas,” he emphasizes each word with planting kisses down Eddie’s jaw, his throat. “Is it working?”If Eddie wasn’t so spectacularly and ridiculously gone for him, it might be annoying. Instead, he finds himself smiling when he says, “You’re such a dumbass.”OR:Richie has to drop one of Eddie's folders off at the office, and they both get a little more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 375
Collections: Anonymous





	I'm on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the idea of office sex + "you're so stupid" + somewhat-sexy bickering.
> 
> Title is from "I'm on Fire" by Bruce Springsteen!

“ _That,_ ” Eddie says. “Is not my binder.”

The _thing_ in Richie’s hand -- Eddie won’t even dignify it by calling it a _binder_ \-- is one of the brightest things he thinks he’s ever seen. It’s equal parts purple, orange and yellow, blending into each other like a psychedelic mess. In the center of that mess of color is a tiger so cartoony that Eddie has to do a double-take to figure out what it is. 

“Oh, it’s the _contents_ of your binder.” Richie beams, waving it a little to emphasize it. “I just did a little redecorating, that’s all.” 

Out of everything that he could have forgotten at home, his binder was one of the most crucial. He kept most of his important files over the coming week in there, including notes for his appointment and spreads that he’d gone over during any previous meetings. Sure, it was possible to do work without it, but it made his life much more difficult than is frankly necessary.

Which was why he had the _bright_ idea to have Richie bring it from their apartment, naively pleased by the willingness Richie had in bringing it to him. It was a half-hour commute with this traffic, and Eddie had thought he’d sounded too chipper about it on the phone.

And now he knew exactly why. He glances at the little folder and grimaces.

“It looks like a hippie’s soggy tie-dye, dude.”

“This is _Lisa Frank,_ Eds.” Richie says, mock-offended. He places the neon monstrosity onto Eddie’s desk. “It’s chic! Vintage! It’s practically in style.”

“For a twelve-year-old girl, maybe.” He huffs.

Richie crosses over to where he’s standing behind his desk. He leans down to place a kiss delicately on Eddie’s forehead. Eddie smiles, following him to catch his lips. Richie kisses him easy, languid, and pleased, like he’s won the lottery for the thousandth time.

“Don’t think you being sweet is going to distract me from this _disaster,_ ” Eddie waves the brightly-colored folder behind Richie’s back. “I have to use this for work. You’re lucky I have an empty spare.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” Richie says, crowding Eddie up against his desk.

“But if I _was,_ ” he emphasizes each word with planting kisses down Eddie’s jaw, his throat. “Is it working?” 

If Eddie wasn’t so spectacularly and ridiculously gone for him, it might be annoying. Instead, he finds himself smiling when he says, “You’re such a dumbass.” 

“Mm, but I’m your dumbass.” He can feel Richie’s smirk as he mouths at his neck. 

It’s _mostly_ innocent, the way they're crowded close, Eddie's palm cradling Richie’s shoulder. If anyone were to come in, it would look like they were simply being flirty together, rather than anything indecent. But there’s a spark in Richie’s eyes that tells Eddie he should know better than to consider anything they do fully innocent. Because, like most things between the two of them, they both go from zero to a hundred. The energy behind each kiss goes from sweet to having an obvious heat behind it. He pulls Richie up to kiss him and it’s a chaste, little peck of the lips, but Richie groans regardless.

“Also I’m not doing this to distract you from my hilarious joke. I’m doing this because you’re hot, Eds. What the _fuck_ is this suit.”

“I literally wear a suit every day,” Eddie says, motioning down at himself. He's not stupid, though, and knows this one is different. It's ruby red, for one -- a color Eddie wouldnt usually choose for himself, but he admits looks good -- with darker red embroidered details. It's tailored perfectly, as per Bev's standards, to the point where even Eddie knows that he's attractive in it. _A bit of a snack,_ his Richie-sounding mind Voice offers. “Bev just designed a red one, so I figured I’d use it.” 

“I think you should use it at home. Alone. With me,” Richie purrs, a low gravel to his voice that makes Eddie bark out a laugh.

“You’re so gross,” Eddie says. 

But he should have plenty of time before his next appointment. He checks his watch with a little too pointed of a glance, and hums as his gaze flickers up to Richie. “We’re alone now.” 

Before Richie can even process the words, Eddie kisses him, quick and sloppy. He’s eager for it, like he always is with Richie, and willingly opens his lips when Richie presses his tongue to the seam of them. Over the last few months that they’ve been together he’s learned what Richie enjoys, and what gets him going. So maybe he’s being a little bit of a tease when he nips at Richie’s bottom lip, but Richie doesn’t seem to mind. He groans heartily against Eddie's lips.

"We're doing this, then?" Richie murmurs. "M'kay."

With very little effort, he picks Eddie up and hauls him up and onto his desk, hungrily pulling him back in for another kiss. It’s immediately filthy, open-mouthed, and heated, now that they both know exactly where this is heading. It’s always easy to get wrapped up in Richie like this, getting hot and bothered with little more than kissing. He never knew he liked kissing before he got together with Richie, but after their first night, he’s been addicted.

Tucking his fingers into the hair at the crest of Richie’s head, he tugs firmly, leaning forward to suck on Richie’s tongue when he opens his mouth to groan. He swallows the sound by crushing their lips together again, licking into Richie’s mouth with a sound of his own. He pulls at his curls again and this time Richie bucks his hips, brushing his obvious erection against the ever-growing tent at the front of Eddie’s trousers.

He pulls away with a gasp.

“Go lock the door.” He instructs, too riled up to stop but within the right mind to know he’d be mortified if someone barged in. Richie salutes in an over-exaggerated way as he turns to lock the door, leaving Eddie behind with an imprint of fondness. Eddie pulls open the top drawer of his desk, digging around towards the back for only a moment before he finds what he’s looking for: a small, clear bottle. 

He places it onto the desk when Richie shuffles back over.

“You have lube in your _office?_ ” Richie exclaims, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Where you _work?_ ”

Eddie pulls his lips into a thin line. He can feel his cheeks flush despite himself. 

“There are other, non-sex reasons to have lube in your office, Richie,” Eddie says, matter-of-factly. It’s a bald-faced lie, though, and they both know it. Lubricant can be used for other things, sure, like loosening stuck zippers, but Eddie would be lying if he said he simply didn’t like being _prepared_. And considering their situation, that was the right frame of mind to be in. 

“Plus, it’s not like you haven’t propositioned me here before.”

It was at the end of the year, during the company’s annual New Year’s party. Eddie hadn’t wanted to go, not really, but he did because it was good for apperances and work-related relationships, or so his HR manager had said. Going to work parties meant that you cared about your co-workers, or at least pretended to. After that discussion, he doesn't know how anyone would be able to ignore the obligation to go.

And Richie had an obligation to make it fun for him. It took a little over an hour for them to dip into his office, pawing and kissing at each other like teenagers. 

“The office party,” Richie confirms, returning to stand in front of him. His glasses are hanging slightly askew on the tip of his nose, mussled by their kissing. It’s charming.

“Yes. The office party. Where I went to mingle with my co-workers.” 

“You had no interest in mingling--” Richie breathes, kissing him again. He spreads one of his hands against the thigh of Eddie’s trousers, inching closer to his crotch. “-- With anyone but me.”

“Mm. At least you _touched_ me then, you fucking tease.”

“Bossy,” Richie huffs. He unbuttons Eddie’s trousers with practiced motions, pulling both layers of his pants down just far enough to free his embarrassingly hard cock. His red dress pants pool at mid-thigh, forcing him to spread his legs at an awkward angle that was sure to leave him sore later. But Eddie feels like he’s on fire with his dick twitching beneath Richie’s hungry gaze, and soreness be damned, he _needs_ him.

Like he can read his mind, Richie douses his fingers with lube and presses his index finger into him. He pushes deeper, finger slippery and warm and thick, and any other thoughts fly out the window. Richie curves it upward, teasing, and Eddie huffs out a breath. It's not the normal, languid stretch he's used to at home, but he's still a little loose from when Richie fucked him last night. It takes off a bit of the edge, and he quickly finds himself squirming for more. Before his cock can leave a less-than-inconspicuous wet spot on his shirt he tugs the fabric up, wadding it under his ribs and exposing his middle. He wonders what he'd look like to anyone that would walk in. If he'd look like he was gagging for it, spread out and wanton. The thought sends a thrill up his spine. 

“Fuck you,” He hisses. “Your fingers are so thick, what the fuck.” 

“I could stop,”

“I will literally call security to escort you out if you stop right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie says, placatingly, distracting Eddie with another pointed movement, stretching and moving quickly. He uses all of his weight to push inside of him, all-but making Eddie bounce on his hands. It sends shocks of pleasure coursing throughout Eddie's entire body with each movement, each controlled thrust of Richie’s fingers. “We all know how much you love this.” 

Eddie hums. He _does_ love this, but the last thing he needs to do is make Richie’s head any bigger. 

And then Richie curves his fingers, just so, and Eddie lets out a pleased gasp, and its all the answer Richie needs. 

“Bingo,” Richie looks as fucked-out as he feels, flushed and glassy-eyed. Eddie surges forward to kiss him. 

Richie scoots him a little further back onto the desk, moving him into a more comfortable angle. It’s an awkward one, and Eddie has to lean partially on one of his arms, but the depths it allows Richie to move is more than worth it.

Before Eddie can even think to ask, Richie pulls his fingers out almost all the way and pushes in with two this time. He slows, pushing them in only half-way at first, and It’s almost bordering on the edge of too much. He's used to taking fingers, but not like this, hurried and sloppy, but the risk of it all causes him to bite down on his lip. His fingers are a little cool from the chilly office air, which would normally be a turn-off, but something about the extra sensation makes Eddie’s hips buck against him.

With careful motions of his fingers, Richie spreads him open. Eddie scrabbles to hold onto the desk, onto him, onto anything that will keep him grounded. Richie laughs under his breath. Every other thrust he curls his fingers just enough to press against his prostate and keep Eddie on edge. It’s good. Maddeningly good.

Heat coils in his gut, so deep and ingrained that he feels like he’s burning with a re-ignited flame. By the time Richie fits a third finger in him and begins scissoring them, he can feel himself getting close. Each one of Richie’s movements sends a shockwave through him, and he knows that he won’t last long if they continue. 

“Richie,” He chokes out, a warning.

“Alright, alright,” 

He has only a moment to mourn the loss of Richie’s thick fingers before they’re replaced. Richie pushes in shakily, slowly easing him down onto his cock. His fingers were good but this is better, thick, and hot in a way that Eddie will never get used to. It's like his dick is made for him, made to be _fucking_ him, and he’s impossibly full by the time that Richie is half-way inside of him. Eddie groans low in his throat. 

It’s not like he isn’t used to the way that Richie stretches him, but it still surprises him each and every time. He squirms beneath his weight, feeling a thrill of pleasure when Richie grabs his arms to keep him still.

Richie pushes in carefully at first, sinking in inch by inch at a snail’s pace. It does the job of keeping it away from the bad-end of too much, but it’s also infuriatingly slow. It also allows him to feel the flared head of his cock and the big vein on the underside that he loves, which only makes him want it to go faster, _more._

“Fuck, you’re huge,” Eddie says. “I always forget how fucking big your cock is.” 

“Better to fuck you with, my dear,” Richie coos. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are massive behind his glasses, but he’s being so slow, so patient.

Eddie stares at him, determined.

“Yeah? Then _fuck_ me.” 

Richie huffs out a breath. Gripping onto either side of Eddie’s hips he begins a steady rhythm. It’s like he can feel every inch of Richie’s girth as he slowly picks up the pace. It’s not instantaneously a fast pace, more like a steady buildup, but it’s intoxicating. They move together in a practiced way, hard and steady, angled just right.

Slightly hindered by the layers of clothes they both still have on, Eddie reaches in between them to tug his trousers down a little further. With the new mobility, he can hear skin slap against skin, and it’s obscene.

Bracketing Richie’s hips with his knees he bucks forward, meeting one of Richie’s thrusts with one of his own. The weeping head of his length smears across the exposed skin of Richie’s hips, sending a shudder of pleasure down his spine. It’s barely-there friction but it’s enough, and he moves his hips along with Richie’s to chase it. 

Pleasure begins to mount and he can feel it coiling in his belly and he knows it won’t take long, it _won’t_ \--

"Mr. Kaspbrak?" 

The voice of the secretary, Laura, buzzes from the boxy phone teetering on the edge of his desk. He grits his teeth. The clock reads 1:40.

"Your two o'clock appointment is here."

"If you say anything--nnh-- I won’t fuck you for a fucking month, I swear to God." Eddie hisses.

Richie mimes zipping his lips shut, complete with throwing away the key. Eddie levels him a stare, sucks in a few deep breaths, and slowly clicks the receiver. 

"Thank you, Laura." His voice is steady. He's allowed to be proud of that, considering Richie hasn't stopped the intoxicating roll of his hips. He can feel the slick slide of it with each pull, back and forth.

Eddie sets his jaw. Then he makes direct eye contact with Richie.

"I shouldn't be more than a minute."

Richie's eyes darken. He huffs out a breath that sounds suspiciously close to _Eds._

Eddie’s finger is barely off of the receiver when Richie starts to thrust his hips in earnest. The atmosphere is heavier now, like the truth of their predicament has caught up to both of them. Twisting his fingers into the back of Eddie’s button-up for purchase, Richie leans them both over, crushing Eddie’s back against the scattered papers of his desk. He’s huge on a normal day, but with this angle, he’s massive, all-encompassing, and holding him down with very little effort. 

That thought sends a thrill up Eddie's spine and his cock throbs, wanting. It's not like Eddie wasn't aware of his thing about Richie's size before, but now it's become an undeniable fact of his life. At this point, his business card might as well read, _Eddie Kaspbrak, Senior Risk Analyst, Lover of All Things Big,_ with the obnoxious winky emoji Richie loves using. 

He pushes one of his Oxfords against the edge of the desk and the other against his abandoned chair, searching for some sort of leverage to keep himself steady while Richie fucks muffled groans from his throat. The maneuver is made a little awkward and a little stilted by the trousers pooled around his thighs, but when he spreads his legs just so Richie slides in impossibly deeper. 

It’s _heavenly._

This shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, being fucked within an inch of his life in his _office_ while people are clearly waiting for him, but here he is. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, “You can do better than that-- fuck!” 

"You feeling impatient?" Richie breathes, pressing his forehead against Eddie's shoulder. Eddie can feel the way his breath washes over his bare skin in shuddering gasps. "You want me to fuck you hard, make you come? Make you so sore that you’ll spend the entire appointment thinking of me?"

Richie thrusts impossibly faster, burying his cock deep within him with each buck of his hips. He can practically feel it in his throat he’s pushing in so deeply. He envisions himself squirming slightly in the meeting, sore and satisfied in a way he's truthfully never been at work, and feels electricity shock from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“Rich,” he begs, voice hushed against the front of Richie's shirt.

“Mmm?” Richie says, voice still too even, too controlled. Eddie thrusts down against him, pushing his weight to stuff Richie in all the way to the hilt, just to see the way his cheeks flush. 

“ _Please,_ ” Eddie’s tone is almostvlow enough to be a whimper. “Fuck me like you mean it, asshole, I want you to fill me up.” 

The sound that comes out of Richie’s throat can only be described as a whine. His hips stutter a little bit, like he’s been thrown off-kilter. It only spurs him on. 

Eddie bites back a moan, bouncing down onto him, meeting each thrust hungrily. It’s just on the cusp of too much, too quick as he bores down, stuffed to the brim. He hopes that he gets across his urgency, his need. 

_Please, please,_ he begs with every rock of his hips. 

All it takes is Richie reaching in between them to stroke his aching cock to have him coming with a shout, barely muffled by the shoulder of Richie’s shirt. He hasn’t come like this in ages, fast and white-hot, hard enough to blot starbursts of light behind his eyelids. He clenches onto Richie for dear life, grinding against him, milking the pleasurable out as much as he can manage.

Eddie’s distantly aware that Richie is wringing him through it, carefully angling his cock so that he doesn’t completely destroy his suit. Pleasure shudders through him as Richie tugs the last strings of come out of him, wiping it up with his fingers. 

He peers down in between them to see that it’s smeared on Richie’s hand and arm all the way towards his bicep. It’s gross, _filthy_ , actually, with Eddie sitting on his desk where he does work, but. But. He flicks his eyes down and can’t help but wonder what Richie would look like licking it off of him, and he whines before he can stop it. 

That sound must do something for Richie because his thrusts pick up in speed, frantically chasing his own orgasm. He braces his free hand on the side of the desk, holding on as he snaps his hips forward. The overwhelming feeling of the stretch is almost too much with how sensitive Eddie is, but he knows Richie can’t be far behind.

“Yeah,” Eddie groans, bucking his hips against him with purpose. “You fucked so well, made me feel so good. I love you so much. Come for me, Rich, come on--”

Richie comes undone with a groan, his face tucked into Eddie’s chest. His hips twitch with each wave of his orgasm and Eddie can feel the pulse of his cock and the heat of his come filling him up to the brim. There’s something particularly erotic with the feeling now, knowing that he’ll have Richie’s come stuffed in him for the next few hours.

With a couple of smaller, lazy thrusts, Richie stills, apparently sated. He kisses across Eddie’s neck slowly, in a warm and satisfied sort of way. There’s a brief moment of quiet between them as they regain their bearings and come back to the realm of the fully-functioning where they just rub and pant at each other.

But a quick glance at the clock, he knows he’s pushing it with barely eight minutes until his scheduled appointment, and he sighs quietly. 

Eddie kisses him once. “You’re the worst.” Again. He kisses him a third time, just for good measure. 

Richie mumbles something incoherent against his skin. He slowly pulls out of him, bringing along with him a string of come and lube that Richie only barely catches with his fingers before it falls on the floor. 

Eddie scrunches his nose.

“You’re helping me clean up my desk. And this mess,” he gestures toward the scattering of papers and the slick line on the desk, and Richie only shrugs.

“YOLO.” 

“You-- you are _not_ allowed to say YOLO after you’ve fucked me in my _office_ , dipshit.” Eddie lowers his voice a little bit, pushing closer to a harsh whisper toward the end. He shoves tissues at Richie with more force than truly necessary. “Here. Clean up the smear and help me stack the papers up,”

He considers for a moment before he pulls a normal, dark-green trapper keeper from his desk’s middle drawer. “And put all my documents in this before you leave.” 

“Yes sir, Mr. Kaspbrak, sir,” Richie says. He leans over and plants a chaste kiss on his lips. It’s ridiculous. Eddie huffs out a laugh.

It’s honestly a miracle that they get everything back into a (relatively) uniform state before the clock turns over to two o’clock. They work together in different areas, with Eddie straightening up a pen holder that they’d knocked over in their haste and Richie tucking his documents into a folder that won’t make him embarrassed to look his client in the eyes. 

The last thing that Eddie does is pull a candle out of his bottom drawer. This is yet another thing that he had stashed in his office after the New Year’s Incident, and he’s thanking his past-self for it now. He lights it, and sighs when the apple-cinnamon scent begins to waft through the air. 

“Well,” He starts, fiddling with his shirt to tuck it back into his pants again. “At least I can look Mr. Smith in the eyes, now.” 

Richie grins. “Yeah. Now it looks _tip-top!_ ”

He crosses the room to hand Richie his now-empty neon folder and plant a kiss on his lips. “Now go home, you horndog.” 

“Mmkay. I love you,” Richie breathes, sweet and smiling against his lips.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I love you too, you big sap.”


End file.
